For the Record
by maleV
Summary: Setting the record straight for Nivanfield fans everywhere. Who started this, and who will end it. One-shot


To set the record straight, it hadn't started out like people thought. Taking one look at the pair it was only natural to assume that because of the difference in age, because there were so many obvious connections between past and present, because his partner was so incredibly good looking; that it had been Chris who started the relationship between his partner and he. They couldn't be further from wrong. He had seen his fair share of beautiful people, his partners had always been aesthetically pleasing, looks had never much mattered to the captain of the S.O.U., only skill. So it wasn't a huge surprise when he had picked Piers Nivans as his next partner. Piers was young, fast paced, short tempered, and a specialist in his field, meaning he _was_ Chris, only younger. Only seemed right that he should find someone that closely related to himself to begin grooming for a captaincy. There had been nothing romantic about that decision despite what people thought. Chris was training a replacement, it only made perfect sense to raise a guy through the ranks who was made of the same stuff he was. Short tempered, virulent, and with bravado that couldn't be matched, Piers seemed like the perfect candidate for the job. The man that never missed. It wasn't some strange fascination with his amazingly full tiers, or the flecks of gold in searching hazel eyes, or his perfectly sculpted body. Redfield had never much paid attention to those things until after he'd appointed him within the team and even then it hadn't been been a little time after that. Still a relationship had formed. It hadn't been Chris though, no matter what people wanted to believe about his romantic notions. Their relationship hadn't even been a sexual one. At least not to start.

Chris grazed a gloved hand down the beige flak jacket clad stomach, traversing ever downward, holding his soldier back, smirking internally as the younger man beside him braced against his thick triceps all but danced away from the fleeting touch, laughter in Chris' eyes as he watched Piers turn on his heel, fuming but completely in control, hiding the fact that every little touch made the golden ace swallow hard. Always the hot head. Piers couldn't lie to save his life, he had an honesty streak a mile wide, only rivaled by the moral highway he seemed to tote around on one shoulder. The captain smirked. Probably why Piers always leaned his weight with his rifle to one side and did hat little hip jut of his. Apart from wanting to stand out he liked being the one to look at. Such the attention whore. Chris wasn't one to deny him though, slipping a hand over the soldier's shoulder giving it a squeeze while he started to talk, watching the brunette squirm under his own flesh trying not to let the fleeting red to his naturally tan skin become apparent to the men, eyes wandering to follow their captain while he himself gave the report to their team over what they're next move was. It was funny watching a naturally leading figure like Piers, trip up on himself whenever Chris gave him a prolonged stare, or what happened when he let his hands stray. There was no necessity for over the top touches, because the Piers was head over heels and that much had been obvious since day one. Always out to prove himself, as though a man who never missed had anything to prove to his captain. But he worshiped Chris, did anything to earn himself just a little attention from a busy captain with at least seven other men in his team he needed more attention that Piers did. In the beginning it was just the looks, constantly searching out those chiseled features in hopes of a nod or a met stare. Hazel piercings eyes sought Chris out after every shot, after every instant, seeking immediate gratification and at first Chris wasn't hesitant to give it to him. That had been the first indication. Once he'd noticed those straying eyes and how his tongue would dart out to moisten his top tier after every lengthy glance, the decision was made to use those looks sparingly. Ever since then Chris couldn't help but experiment; give him the tiny touches that had him writhe under his hands fighting the curl of those full pouted lips into a smile for any added attention. Questioning, confused looks, so hopeful every time a hand would graze his lower back or lower still.

Dark brown, almost black eyes, hard and penetrating met younger hazel eyes, giving that swift raised brow and cant of the head in the form of a nod, approving of the ongoing collaboration that was issued from those full lips, fought in a downward scowl while issuing commands to clear the remaining area of the place, waiting for a resounding 'YES SIR' before dismissing them to their proper jobs. Piers was a marksman, he was confident and strong with all weapons, but after seeing the kid in action, it was a kind of dance between them. This young, twenty year old was dancing with Chris over who it was that could impress the most and whenever he won, Chris would reach over and card his hand through Piers flipped hair and ruffle it. It always earned a musical laugh, never the disapproving anger that was displayed toward other men. Chris had sealed the adoration when he got Piers his rifle, the one his hands practically milked to orgasm whenever his hands were idle. After he'd given him that little toy those hazel eyes never rested on another human being again, just looked through them. With Chris, he looked directly into him. Smiling the captain paced the circlet of men waited for the fan out command before his heavy booted ominous steps brought him up behind his sniper, breathing on his partner's ear while the other fought to maintain composure of himself. Gruff words issued straight from his chest brought goosebumps over the back of Piers neck, all but hidden by the sniper's mesh scarf that was always in place around his deliciously tan flesh. Chris wanted to lick it. But not here. "Miss me soldier?" There was an obvious swallow, followed by pursed lips and a clenched jaw, Piers little tell tale signs that he was fighting any urge to react on the matter. So cute when the sniper tried to pretend he wasn't gagging for it. It made it all the more enticing.

Forty years old and he had a twenty year old around his finger for every want and need. He loved wearing him out in every respect, or teasing him until they were alone and Piers would throw aside all his normal inhibitions and practically beg while throwing off his clothing. Forty years old and Piers had come to him. No, that wasn't hero worship at all. Chris loved it, so endearing and amazingly fucking sexy to see his normally composed soldier turning into a mess of himself just from having Chris breathing on his neck, reminding him of their last rendezvous. "Look at you soldier...," Piers was shifting under the weight of those deep brown eyes, scanning stoically over the back of his neck to his jawline, watching it flex. "Such a mess... we need to clean you up soldier." Rasped breathing caught in Piers chest, watching the rise and fall flutter when Chris' singularly strong hand grasped that popped hip, cupping it and holding him in place, loving how whenever he gave a gruff squeeze Piers would try rocking his body back but his captain would hold him completely still with a flex of his own impressively huge musculature. Chris was a beast of man. He had strength that rivaled most anyone, had gone toe to toe with even the most impressive and 'godlike' man in the world and held his own. He was build like an Adonis and wasn't afraid to admit that when he had the top-ranked sniper in the U.S. with his own impressive build and mental faculties, shuddering under the force of his finger tips. Insatiable little thing, and he was all Chris.' Hell if he would share with anyone, but that was never a concern, no one else could make Piers Nivans even crack a smile. A soldier as keen and intelligent as their ace sniper, it was hard to find any way to please him in the battlefield. No one could make Piers happy. He was angry and forceful with every action, just like his captain and expected hard work from every one of their men and if he didn't get it... there was a reason Piers was known as a hard ass. No, a man like that didn't want some little rookie in his bed fumbling around for who's on top and where to put it. He wanted a self aware statue of a man like Chris, using all those years of experience and taking everything he wanted. Not a smile for others, let alone this trying to find contact with their hips while Chris was holding him in place like a caged animal; fighting the instinct to turn around or shove his weight back into his captain in search of any further physical gratification. "You did good out there today... I think you earned a reward." The captain didn't have to do anything to turn Piers into this ridiculously different version of himself, muscled hip still in Chris' hand while the rest of Piers body all but trembled with the resistance, chewing on the inside of his lip and cheek. He wouldn't dare his voice, Piers' voice always hitched whenever Chris used that insanely high sexual tension against him.

They didn't have to move from this spot; no need to stroke like thirteen year olds; touch, or even look each other in the eye to get Piers to that point of mental breaking. Just the potential energy stored between those two bodies in the statue like stance they both took, trembling with the restraint it took to keep from displaying just how needy the younger man was. Piers was a pretty little thing that much couldn't be denied Chris had desired him there was no doubting that, but no, it hadn't been him to start this thing. It had been Piers. Those youthful eyes couldn't stop from straying on Chris and they hadn't gone unnoticed. He was always watching those huge plains of muscle, contours and scars, the thick muscled waist; and that whole face would flush whenever they would lock eyes. They were having sex through their eyes long before they actually started having sex. Chris had started the flirtatious behavior, making innuendos and any reason to touch Piers that made his sniper swallow so hard he wasn't sure the kind wasn't going to have a seizure just from the contact alone. It had been a long time coming, but Chris wasn't some old shit with nothing left to give, he knew how to work a man to distraction, particularly this one, because he'd been this young man almost twenty years ago. One stray hand came up, callouses on the trigger finger of his right hand, Piers began to tug at his scarf, adjusting the rough material against his neck that Chris was breathing on, drawing attention to, allowing those lips to part and suck in a breath as Chris took in a deep inhale, filling his nose with that scent of mixed cleanliness, gun oil, and sweat. No, all he had to do was keep on with those little approving touches, ruffling his hair with a jerk of his hair at the end, fleeting glances. Going on that way for almost six months, cutting off any questions or confusion with just a hand to shut him up, Piers was completely his. When they finally had been alone together for the first time in months; a scouting forward mission they'd both taken, Chris went to give him an amused but victorious slap on those slim shoulders. Piers had caught him by the wrist before the contact was even made, turned into him and tried to kiss him.

Tried to, because Chris caught him by the neck, rubbing his gloved thumb against sweat covered velvety flesh, slamming him up against the brick and rubble of the cleared out building. Weapons were immediately dropped out of the ace's hands and his fingers working to get the buckles of his flak jacket removed while Chris held him there, struggling with his clothing, just watching him under his squeezing hand. With all that pent up frustration all the captain had to do was hold him back. Once he was free of his flak jacket Chris let him go. One hand shot out, jerking up the material of Piers' regs just to see those taut stomach muscles before grabbing slim hips and spinning him. Poor kid probably had whiplash from how quick Chris moved him, jerking down his fatigues around his thighs. There was no talking. Chris took him dry. Piers didn't mind. He was panting and moaning louder than the so called older man until a slapped gloved hand over the sniper's pouted lips choked off his unfettered moaning until he'd wrecked the poor kid. People were all, they came together, or perhaps Chris would wait for Piers, build him up. There was no waiting and it was never Chris that came first. Chris got Piers so damn worked up he was way ahead of Chris when they fucked. He was always fumbling and struggling for breath by the time Chris was done, in a mess of his own fluids and cum slipping down his thighs. Piers was a whore for Chris and they both loved it. He was all eager slutty moans and unable to hold back, begging for more until Chris gave it to him and he jumbled up and lost it like the kid he was compared to domineering overpowering strength, manhandling that normally stoic man into a completely mess. He'd only said one thing to him after they were done, jerking his tactical gear back into place, reaching forward with his strong mitts and coming back with a hand full of tawny brown hair, pulling Piers head back to whisper right against his lips, "Good boy, soldier," after that he'd gave him two pats on the cheek, chuckling at the man on his knees completely exhausted, unable to put himself back together unlike Chris. He knew after that whenever he said those words in the field it sent a shot straight to Piers' groin every time he said it after that. But of course that was the point.

After that it was all Chris. Piers was urgent and quick with the clothing off and his hands on, but Chris set the ground rules fast. Ones that played in his favor. Fuck the statement of their age, this captain had his partner practically begging for it after just a graze of the fingers. No touching, only a captain was allowed to touch his subordinate and those were always rough. Always forceful, like this, holding Piers in position with one hand, even though it was sparking the tension between them. Hazel eyes looking sidelong at brown exacting ones, pleading him, with that clenched jaw that meant he could have stripped down and bent over for Chris right there on the spot. Always so eager... That was another rule. Sex was off limits unless he did a good job in the field. That worked perfect because it was a challenge and his little sniper liked those. Plus the build up it allowed, that anticipatory time between a final sweep like they were doing now and the end of a mission made for perfect foreplay. His pretty little partner, all actions and no words, his hand tugging once more at his scarf intentionally catching Chris' eye with a cant of the head, showing off that olive tone skin before dropping his hand back down, itching to touch his captain, close the gap forced there between their bodies by that single strong hand, squeezing his hip.

"Captain..."

And there was the other. 'You call me captain when you're bent over for me Nivans.' The second he made that rule Piers never dropped it, like a swear or a prayer, or something that would save him form all those sinful thoughts coursing through his mind getting him painfully close, just from that one hand on his hip and the captain's humid breaths on the back of his neck. "I bet you're weeping right now... so little discipline soldier." Squeezing tighter he earned that stifled moan, hazel eyes clenching shut. Who said forty was too old for this? Twenty-four just shy of twenty-five and Piers was all his. A word here and a look there and he could turn this muscle taut, always business soldier into putty. Another squeeze he could tell Piers was fighting the urge to lull his head back onto Chris' shoulder and drop the gun. "Don't worry soldier, I'll take care of you," another squeeze, then a brush of his hand over the front of dark fatigues, while finally moving away, he could hear the gasp as lips fell open, hazel eyes heavy following Chris wantonly. Two more minutes like that and he would have had to tell Piers to go clean himself up before his team mates got back. Didn't even have to touch his body to make that young man a mess of sweat and semen. No... it wasn't Chris that started this tryst with his partner, but he sure as hell always had the last say.

* * *

**Inspiration struck, and I love this couple.**


End file.
